Cats Are Not Dead, Either

I mention this because in tying up the loose ends of my holiday letter (yes, there will be one this year, guilted as I was by Wendy Morgenstern and some relatives), I realized I had not said anything about the cats.

At sixteen, Grendel refuses to show her age. Sure, she used to kill flies with her bare paws, then toy dinosaurs, now Xavier's socks ... but she's still got it, baby. (Actually, although she makes a lot of noise about killing Xavier's socks, it does save us the bother of trying to figure out where he has left them.) Her appetite is beginning to slack off, though, leading us to offer her more tantalizing treats, which brings us to ...

... Caliban, who at thirteen, is even fatter than ever (probably pushing nineteen pounds now, although at 17.5 pounds the vet said he was "big-boned," so nineteen pounds is not quite as bad as it sounds.) Still, any tips on how we can keep our thin cat from getting thinner while preventing our fat cat from getting fatter would be appreciated.

And about that Christmas letter ... don't be surprised if you ring in the New Year before you see it. If you don't get one at all, you won't be missing much (since you get the best from this Blog), but if you know me personally and don't get one, it is because I don't know your address. If you know me personally, you know how to reach me and get added to my mailing list.


Adam and I (like many parents) frequently cannot watch a movie in a single evening because the kids get to bed late, and we are too exhausted to stay up much later. Just the other night, Adam and I were watching the third installment of "The Dark Knight," which means we were in the middle of a scene with lots of explosions, when suddenly Xavier appeared in the doorway of the living room, one hand on his hip.

He shouted indignantly, "What's the matter with you people? Dontcha know that people are trying to sleep in here?"

Then, in a more conversational tone, "So, whatcha watching?"